


The Bond Between

by ipreferfiction



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jedi Positive, Jedi as Found Family (Star Wars), Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano Friendship, Series of Vignettes, Written for the Found Zine, this was an excuse to write my favorite family duo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29316537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipreferfiction/pseuds/ipreferfiction
Summary: Ahsoka Tano and Obi-Wan Kenobi, from the war's beginning onward.(or: Ahsoka tries to meditate, and Obi-Wan always knows exactly what to say to ease his grandpadawan's fears.)
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	The Bond Between

**Author's Note:**

> This was written several months ago for the Found zine, and it's a bit funny to see it now! I do absolutely love this, and it was so fun to get to write about found family with some of my favorite characters. This isn't too long, but I'm proud of the end result. I'm so glad I finally get to post it now that leftover sales are up. Enjoy!

Of all the Jedi on Coruscant, from Mace Windu to Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi was one of the most famous. The Negotiator, a legend with his lightsaber and his wit, Master Kenobi had a face known around the galaxy, dreaded by the Separatists, and infamous among the Jedi themselves.

And he was Ahsoka’s grandmaster.

Not only was Ahsoka the brand-new padawan of Anakin Skywalker, the Hero Without Fear, but her long and storied lineage included the Jedi now sitting before her, hovering effortlessly in midair as the Force gently hummed around him.

Ahsoka glanced at Master Kenobi again. He opened one eye to calmly examine her.

“Padawan, I do believe that you’re supposed to be meditating,” he said, a gentle smile flitting across his face. Ahsoka sighed.

“Sorry, master,” she said miserably. Still, no matter how tightly she screwed her eyes shut, peace could not come. Her thoughts flitted  _ into _ her head, yes, but they would not  _ leave. _

“Little one, don’t apologise to me. What’s troubling you?”

“What tells you that something’s bothering me?” she blurted out before she could think. “Sorry,” she added sheepishly. To her surprise, Master Kenobi laughed.

“I can sense your disquiet. Come; talking can help to calm your mind.”

“The Force is turbulent,” Ahsoka said reluctantly. “I can barely concentrate.”

To Ahsoka’s further surprise, Master Kenobi floated down to the ground; Ahsoka could feel the currents of Force slow around him as he opened his eyes and met her gaze.

“Is it?” he asked.

“What?”

“Is it the Force that is turbulent, or is it your mind?”

Ahsoka paused. When she reached for the Force, it was clear; her mind was indeed the issue. She almost apologized again before she remembered Master Kenobi’s earlier words.

“Are you alright, young one?” Master Kenobi asked.

Ahsoka collapsed onto her meditation cushion and huffed out a breath. “Master Kenobi—”

“Obi-Wan, please, Ahsoka; I am your grandmaster.”

“Master Obi-Wan, that’s the problem. I’m your grandpadawan and Anakin Skywalker’s padawan. You two are some of the greatest Jedi alive; Master Anakin is a legend already, and you fought a Sith Lord and won before you were even knighted! I’m…nothing like that,” she said. “I’m not a great duelist like you, I’m not strong with the Force like Master Anakin, and I’m not anything special. How am I supposed to live up to you two?”

Master Kenobi’s expression grew more critical as he stared at Ahsoka. He rubbed his beard and thought for a moment, then began to speak.

“When I was a padawan,” he said, “I struggled with my duty to the Jedi Order. There came a moment when I saw a choice before me: I could remain a Jedi, as I had been raised to be, or I could leave it all behind and—well, and run away across the galaxy.”

“But you chose your duty,” Ahsoka muttered sullenly.

“Do you know why?”

“Because you knew that you couldn’t break the vows you’d sworn to the Order?”

Master Kenobi laughed softly.

“I had a duty, yes, as all Jedi do. But duty alone is nothing. I had a family. Now, don’t tell Anakin, but in those days, I wasn’t much of a duelist; the minute I returned from my mission, Quinlan Vos dragged me away from my master and into the sparring rings and proceeded to defeat me three times in a row.”

Ahsoka stared at him in disbelief, and he grinned down at her.

“I was still feeling miserable and lonely; I’d spent a year away from the Temple, and when I returned, it did not fill me with the joy that I thought it would. But Quinlan reminded me—slowly, mind you, and with not a little violence—that I still had friends in the Temple. And after he proceeded to ruin my reputation as a duelist, he dragged me off to see Luminara and Kit. We’d been friends for years; Lumi and I used to terrorize our teachers endlessly by making them give us extra work when we’d finish ours, and Kit, though he was older than we were, would help us all play pranks on Master Yoda. Oh, and Quinlan was a force to be reckoned with long before he became a Shadow. The only person who could ever keep him in line was Lumi, and only because she had perfected an expression that perfectly stated, ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.’”

Ahsoka couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as she pictured the expression on Master Luminara’s face, but her mirth soon faded.

“How does that help me?” she asked. “I’m still not anything like you.”

Master Obi-Wan placed his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. Ahsoka could feel his solemnity and his care for her winding through the Force around them both.

“When I was at my lowest point, when not even my master could reach me, I had my friends,” Obi-Wan began. “Every one of them has made me stronger, both literally and figuratively; I spent every day for a year training with Quinlan after I returned from that mission, and he made me twice the duelist that I was after that year was over. Luminara taught me how to look at the Force in a way that still colors my perception today—a way that has saved my life when I most needed it. Kit taught me to look below the surface and examine every aspect of a problem, rather than judging on appearance alone. My master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had his faults, as all Jedi do, but he taught me the value in all things, living and not, and that one must understand a rule to truly follow it.

“Without every one of them and a thousand other influences, I would not be the Jedi that I am. I was fourteen when I became a padawan, and I’ve forgotten more about the world right now than I knew all those years ago. You are not stagnant, Ahsoka. You will grow, and you will change, and you will make your master proud—and me as well, I hope.”

Ahsoka’s eyes stung as she looked up at Master Obi-Wan.

“You really think I can do it?” she asked, voice very small. The corners of Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“I am certain of it.”

And finally, after so much conflict, Ahsoka’s mind began to quiet.

  
  


When Ahsoka arrived in the little meditation room they always used _ , _ Master Obi-Wan was already deep in meditation and floating several inches above the cushions. Still, no matter how silently Ahsoka crossed the room, he still greeted her as she settled down beside him.

“I was worried you weren’t coming today, Ahsoka,” he said, eyes still tightly closed. Ahsoka grinned.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, master,” she answered as she crossed her legs and plopped down on the cushions. After so many months, the actions were familiar and soothing, and Ahsoka welcomed the cool ambience of the Force around her as she quieted her mind. Waves lapped against her consciousness, and she slipped further and further into the Force.

“You’re becoming quite adept at meditation, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said after a few minutes of silence. “So I assume you haven’t learned from Anakin.”

Ahsoka snickered. “He’s your former padawan! You know he was supposed to learn from you.”

Obi-Wan’s groan was answer enough.

Even a short amount of meditation proved enough to center Ahsoka back in reality. She had felt unsettled since she’d returned to Coruscant; floating beside Master Obi-Wan, with his soothing presence beside her, helped. After the first time she had done this, all those months ago when he had shared stories of his friends and assuaged her fears, she had welcomed meditation with him. As much as she loved her own master, he could prove to be a little… much. Her grandmaster was the cool stream to Anakin’s supernova, and occasionally, that was just what Ahsoka needed.

“Tell me,” Obi-Wan asked as the atmosphere turned contented. “How have you been lately?”

Ahsoka paused, then released the stiffness in her shoulders and closed her eyes again before answering.

“I’m well, master. And I’m learning, just as you said I would.”

“Your last battle was difficult. I am sorry to hear about the men you lost.”

Ahsoka exhaled and relaxed her tense muscles.

“So am I, master. I tried to save as many as I could, but I couldn’t save them all.”

“Do you blame yourself for their deaths?”

Ahsoka took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“I want to say no, master. I know in my head that I am not responsible. But still…”

“You are learning, little one,” Obi-Wan said in reply. “Their deaths will never be easy, but the weight of thousands of men’s lives on your shoulders alone will crush you if you cannot let them go.”

“I know, but I don’t understand how. I’ve fought beside them for months; I’ve watched them when we’re not in battles; I’ve learned more from them than they ever have from me. I don’t know how to let them go, master. How can I love them when they’re alive and forget about them when they’re not?”

“Oh, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder. “No. You are never called to forget any of the men you’ve fought with or any other Jedi or anyone else you’ve known after they have died. But to let them go is the only way to heal the pain of their loss.

“As Jedi, we are called to love everyone. You know this; you know how hard this can be, or how easy. It stands to reason that people the Jedi care about will die. Tell me, do we forget our sibling Jedi when they fall?”

“No.”

“And do your men forget their brothers?”

“I suppose not,” Ahsoka said, thinking of the late nights after battles when Rex would stare hollow-eyed into a campfire, or the clusters of men who would exchange quiet stories of their dead brothers.

“Then you must learn to mourn without forgetting. This can be hard, even for Jedi; I know your master struggles with such things, and so you may have picked it up from him. Right now, though, you can do nothing to change their deaths, and you know that you could have done nothing to stop them from dying.

“Ahsoka, the bonds you have forged with your men will last. All you can do once they’re gone is to recognize that they died for something. Release your grief and your pain into the Force; let it soothe your wounds and heal you. Do not forget them, but learn how to mourn without your grief consuming you.”

Ahsoka wiped away a tear and sniffed, clasping her hand around Obi-Wan’s. The answering squeeze was comforting; when she reached for the Force, she could feel his warm, sad presence brushing against her consciousness.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m sorry you have to explain this all to me.”

“Little one, I am your grandmaster. I welcome your questions; I am thankful that you can come to me when you need them answered. Now, would you like to continue meditating or do you want some tea?”

She paused, then asked for the tea.

For the rest of the morning, they did not meditate; they simply sat side-by-side, looking out the window onto Coruscant’s bustling landscape as steam curled around them. As she relaxed into the warmth of the tea in her hands, she realized that peace was slowly coming over her. She hadn’t felt this calm since before her last battle, and she welcomed the relief.

Only when she said goodbye to Obi-Wan hours later did she understand that they had been meditating, and that it had brought her a respite from her grief and doubt, enough for her to move forward.

Enough for her to heal as a Jedi would.

  
  


“I sense some disquiet in you, master,” Ahsoka said without opening her eyes. She could feel Obi-Wan standing near the doorway; she didn’t have to reach out with the Force to hear his deep sigh.

“Young one, you are growing quite perceptive,” he replied as he took up his place on the meditation mat next to her. “All this time as Anakin’s padawan has been good for you.”

“At least it’s been good for something,” she groused. “He left me here to go on a ‘meditation retreat,’ or so he claimed.”

Obi-Wan’s amusement was palpable.

“You think he’d lie to you?”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know of any meditation retreats in the sector he was headed to. And if it was a secret mission, why couldn’t I come?”

“Anakin is a fallible being, just like the rest of us. Perhaps he simply needed a break from life here and decided not to tell you he was going on vacation.”

“Then why are you worried about him?” Ahsoka shot back.

“Ahsoka, it’s Anakin. With his luck, he’ll be kidnapped by the Separatists within the week,” Obi-Wan said, laughing. Despite his joking words, though, Ahsoka could still feel his deeply-buried concern.

“You’re worried about him,” she said again.

“I suppose it’s no use pretending otherwise. Anakin is like a brother to me, and I love him dearly, but he gets himself into the worst situations sometimes. If he’s gone off on his own, I am concerned that he has some half-baked plan and in a few days, he’s going to holo me asking for a rescue ship.”

Ahsoka snorted. “He’s not that—Force, he really is that bad, isn’t he?”

Obi-Wan’s answering laugh set Ahsoka off, too, until the pair of them were doubled over recounting the worst of Anakin’s escapades over the years.

“I am glad that he hasn’t rubbed off on you too much, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan eventually choked out after Ahsoka described Anakin’s most recent absurd action, leaping onto a ship about to leave a planet’s atmosphere and barely managing to carve a path inside before he started burning up. “I don’t think my heart could handle two of you.”

“And what about the time Anakin says you jumped through a window and onto an escaping droid that was  _ certainly _ not big enough to hold your weight just to find a bounty hunter, hm?” Ahsoka shot back with a fanged smirk. “Maybe he learned more from you than you’d like to think.”

Obi-Wan looked so offended that Ahsoka almost believed he was earnest, until a smile broke across his face.

“Senator Amidala’s life was in danger. I simply did what I had to.”

“And it had nothing to do with being dramatic?”

“Padawan, I don’t like your insinuation. Me, a member of a long and storied lineage tracing back to Master Yoda himself, being dramatic for the sake of it? My master certainly did not raise me like that. He did raise me to speak to swamp vines and turn up to Council meetings covered in so much mud that my species was indeterminable, but dramatics? Never.”

A softer, more wistful smile had appeared on Obi-Wan’s face as he spoke of his old master. A sort of calm mingled in the Force around him, twining with old grief and a deep love familiar to any Jedi.

“I’m sorry, master, I think you might be the odd one out here,” Ahsoka teased gently. “What was Master Qui-Gon like?”

“He was an interesting Jedi; not too fond of the rules and liable to completely ignore the Council if he felt that he was right, but a good man and a good mentor nonetheless. If he’d been more amenable to being tied down, he would have been a member of the Council, but in the end, he could not give up the freedom of missions across the galaxy. I still mourn him, even now, but I know that he would be proud of Anakin, and if he had ever met you, he would have been proud to have you in his lineage, as well.”

The thought warmed Ahsoka.

“If he trained you, he must have been a great man, master.”

“He was. But I did not come here to talk about my master, little one. How goes your meditation?”

“Not well. Anakin’s absence has unsettled me, and I can’t focus.”

“Then let’s meditate and see if we can’t quiet our fears, young one.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes and began to breathe.

_ I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. _

Distantly, Ahsoka felt herself lift off the meditation mat as her mind harmonized with the Force. She inhaled and the blinding signature of the Temple flooded her mind; she exhaled and felt her heartbeat match with Master Obi-Wan’s. When they breathed next, they did so in perfect unity.

Ahsoka let herself relax again. Her mind loosened its grip on her fears and her irritation at Anakin; instead, she sunk deep into the gilded memories of her time with Obi-Wan. The first time he had assuage her fears, telling her stories of his time as a padawan who felt out of place among the Jedi; every time he had comforted her after a battle, a pillar of calm for her to anchor herself to when she did not know how to mourn; early mornings and late nights with steaming cups of tea, sparring practice, and training in the Force; and now, two years since she had been made Anakin’s padawan, how he had become almost a second master to her.

“You were right, master,” Ahsoka said after a long stretch of silence. “When I was fourteen and you told me that I’d grow, you were right.

“I have grown. I am not the reckless padawan I was back then. I know I still have a long way to go, and I know that I’ll never be perfect, but I want you to know that your teachings have guided me as much as my master’s have. Everything you’ve taught me has made me a better Jedi, and I’ll forever be thankful that I had someone like you to guide me.”

Master Obi-Wan smiled, and the Force lit up with affection.

“I couldn’t ask for a better student, Ahsoka,” he replied softly. “And I am so very proud of you.”

Sunlight streamed down over them, and Ahsoka was content.


End file.
